His Uncle's Influence
by digigirl02
Summary: They say that it is hard to be named after a deceased love one it proven to be ten times harder when it was your dad's dead twin. A look into Fred the second's mind.


His Uncle's Influence

A/N & Disclaimer- Happy Father's Day. This fic is a view of what I pictured Fred Weasley the second to be like. I do not own Harry Potter.

Sixteen years old Fredrick Weasley the second lit up his cigarette as he leaned against the railing that surrounded the balcony of Ravenclaw Tower as he took in the scenery around him. He knew that his father disapproved of his habit, but at that moment he had more pressing matters on his mind.

Earlier that day in History of Magic, their teacher, Professor Bones gave them an essay assignment to write about the most influential person in their life. Fredrick took a drag from his cigarette, and sighed. It wasn't that he found the topic to be particularly difficult. After since being a perfect and top student of his year as well there wasn't much academically he couldn't do, but the question remained on how he was going to write his paper on some one who he had never formally met.

Growing up, he had heard many stories about his uncle of course, tales that reminisced on how brave witty and charming he was while omitting out any negative details. Fredrick didn't put much thought into it at that time not realizing that it is customary not to speak ill of the dead. It wasn't until first year that he checked out a book titled, "The Battle of Hogwarts, Fallen Warriors," by Rita Skeeter, that his pious picture of his late uncle was tarnished. Knowing about Rita's reputation for stretching the truth he went to his uncle Ron and asked for the whole story.

After talking with his uncle and finding that some of what was written was indeed true Fredrick felt a bit betrayed. All of his life he had been told about how much his looked like his uncle (even though in hindsight it seemed a bit silly since his dad was his uncle's identical twin therefore he would resemble his father,) while subconsciously implying that he should be like him as well. But the truth was that he didn't want to be like his dad who despite all his good qualities was still an arrogant troublemaker nor did he want to be like his dad who owned a novelty store, but his own person instead. After all, he was Fredrick Lee Weasley, not Fredrick Gideon Weasley. Unlike his uncle he was actually interested in school and preferred science to pulling pranks or Quidditch. Nor did he have any interest in going into the family business but wanted to study alchemy instead.

So instead of allowing himself to be continually molded into the type of person his father wanted him to be he decided to rebel. He began to dye his red locks black and insisted on being called Fredrick. Taking it one step further he started to act like his uncle Percy, and took studying and rule abiding seriously. He even started to report his cousin's, Luis and James childish pranks in hopes that his parents would recognize the difference. While they say it is hard to be named after a deceased love one it proven to be ten times harder when it was your dad's dead twin.

It was also around that time that he began to resent his uncle and started to wonder what his life would be like if his uncle was still alive. Like if his parents would be together or if him and his sister would ever exist. Would he be close to his uncle Fred, much like he is to Ron and also how different would his relationship be with his father would be and if they would be closer. He also wondered if he would be more like him as well such as pulling pranks with his cousins.

Despite his questions the only thing that he was sure of was that his father would be happier. Growing up he's also heard many stories about how care free his father once was and often wished to see him that way again. But deep in his heart he knew that it was futile, for no amount of magic can awake the dead no matter the amount of wishing you would put into it.

Fredrick sighed once again as he put his nearly extinguished cigarette out and headed back inside. Walking into the common room he plopped down on one of the blue loveseats and pulled out some parchment from his bag. After finding his quill he began to write his assignment on the man that although he never met had still influenced his life in more ways then one.


End file.
